


Un

by amusewithaview, AnnieMar, becisvolatile, BionicallyIronic, Bulmaveg_Otaku, Captainwittyoneliner, CatrinaSL, dixiedolittle, G_the_G, Hollyspacey, Imogen_Penn, inkbert, leftennant



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ALL THE PENS, Avenger Wrangler Darcy Lewis, Awkward Flirting, Bad Hands, Bonus CaptainHill, F/M, Kissing, Making Tuna Melts Sexy Since 2016, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Sexual Content, That Towel, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieMar/pseuds/AnnieMar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/becisvolatile/pseuds/becisvolatile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BionicallyIronic/pseuds/BionicallyIronic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku/pseuds/Bulmaveg_Otaku, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainwittyoneliner/pseuds/Captainwittyoneliner, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatrinaSL/pseuds/CatrinaSL, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiedolittle/pseuds/dixiedolittle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/G_the_G/pseuds/G_the_G, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyspacey/pseuds/Hollyspacey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/pseuds/Imogen_Penn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkbert/pseuds/inkbert, https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: Un: a prefix meaning “not,” freely used as an English formative, giving negative or opposite force in adjectives and their derivative adverbs and nouns.
Also, the perfect two letters to describe Darcy Lewis’s feelings toward one James Buchanan Barnes. Of course, that’s fully clothed. Once the clothes come off, the uns seem to multiply.A Wintershock Round Robin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This Round Robin was organized and made possible by dixiedolittle and the wonderful mods at [MCU Wintershock](http://mcuwintershock.tumblr.com/post/150643857458/un-a-round-robin).
> 
> Prompt: “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“ From [the Ridiculous Sentence Prompt meme](http://toxixpumpkin.tumblr.com/post/108022477839/ridiculous-sentence-prompts)

 

* * *

Darcy Lewis liked to believe she was very good at dealing with unrequited. Lots of UNs, really. Unrequited. Unappreciated. Unadvisable. And if she was going to be honest with herself, the secret crush she harbored for James Buchanan Barnes ticked all three of those UNs handily.

Unrequited: Barnes barely acknowledged Darcy's existence, never mind the fact that she was hot for his ridiculous body. And his quick wit. And that stupid little man bun he wore sometimes. And the...fuck it. And the _everything_. 

Unappreciated: Darcy's job as the Avenger's handler put her in close proximity with all of the spandex crowd, and even though she always ensured their favorite takeout was piping hot and laid out when they came back from missions and the fact that she pre-filled out as much of their incident reports as possible so they had very little work to do, Barnes was the only one who didn't even give her so much as a thank you whenever they crossed paths.

And finally, Unadvisable: But Barnes didn't have to validate her good work, because Darcy didn't need his praise to know that she was fucking fabulous at her job. The team was happy, and when they were out in the field they moved together as a well-organized unit. She knew it wasn't all her doing, but she also knew that she could keep Tony in line and _that_ was half the battle when it came to making sure everyone else was happy. Why jeopardize the team's (for once) drama-free conditions _and_ her job by becoming entangled with a man who would surely break her heart?

So she didn't.

But one evening, in that strange, hazy hour when the tired is so deep it's in the bones and life decisions should _not_ be made, Darcy found herself hunting Barnes down. All of the team had checked in post-mission but him, and while she knew she could just get him to look over her neatly typed field notes and sign off in the morning, his was the only missing signature and the incomplete paperwork would nag at her all night long. So when Steve had said he'd last seen Barnes in the locker room taking a shower, Darcy slipped her report into a plastic sleeve to keep it from getting wet or bent, and headed down.

Light gleamed off the stark white tiles as Darcy stalked down the rows of lockers. "Barnes? You down here?" Her voice bounced around in the empty room, and instead of an answering reply, all she got was the sharp intake of breath sucked between clenched teeth. Darcy rounded the corner, and while she didn't know when she dropped the paperwork and pen she had with her, she was vaguely aware of the clatter and whirr of the plastic pen hitting the ground and rolling off somewhere, never to be seen again.

James Buchanan Barnes stood naked before her. His hair, darkened to jet from the shower, slicked back from his forehead, drawing her gaze to his finely shaped eyebrows and the bright blue of his eyes. Thin rivulets of water trailed down his throat and in the crevice between his pectorals, petering out before they could trace the lines of his abdominals. One leg was propped up on the bench he stood next to, thankfully (regretfully) blocking her view of what lay at the center of the thatch of dark curls she could just barely see the top of, but it did give her a perfect view of the generous curve of his ass. The pose also gave her a perfect view of the red gash running from just over his left hip up toward his shoulder blade.

Darcy wanted to turn about immediately, hightail it back to her rooms, and practice her DJing skills. Because sweet Jesus, her spank bank would never be overdrawn again. But instead, with the same poise that made her the exceptional handler she was, she said, "I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you do anything else."

His sole response was to raise a single eyebrow, which was unhelpful because it was a very good look on him and Darcy was already sufficiently distracted by the sexy, bloody gash notwithstanding. She did not need him to _compound_ the sexy.

She cleared her throat, concentrated on keeping her eyes above his neck, and gestured to his wound, “Are you going to need, ah, assistance—?”

In a fit of mercy, he grabbed a nearby towel and slung it around his hips. Somehow, having him just that little bit more covered up was even _more_ alluring because one corner of her brain was now focusing on how to get him to _drop_ the towel. “It’s fine, Ms. Lewis,” he assured her stoically. “Doesn’t even need stitches.”  

“Oh, really?” Darcy said, now distracted from the sexy by the potential for stupid male posturing version #62: denial of injuries.

Barnes smiled, and it was a little lopsided and a lot charming. “I think you may be confusing me with Barton, ma’am. Not about to duck the docs. Stevie would have my head on a platter.”

She turned away to search the nearby cabinets for one of the first aid kits she had personally stocked in every room frequented by two or more Avengers. “Steve wouldn’t be mad,” Darcy assured him with a snort, “he’d just be _disappointed_ , and that’s even worse. He makes that _face_ and I _hate_ that face. I do as much as I can to make sure he _never_ makes _that face_ in my general direction, because when he does it always makes me feel like I’ve been kicking an adorable Labrador or something. Aha!” She turned back to him with a grin on her face and a kit in her hands, only to find him staring at her with the oddest look. It was sad and almost… wistful?

“So you and Steve…” he said as she drew closer.

Darcy bit her lip, rifling through the kit one-handed while she studied his wound. She’d seen more injuries in the last year than in all of her life up till then combined. She wasn’t immune to violence and gore, but it didn’t shock her into immobility either. It looked like he was right: he didn’t need stitches. Some adhesive to hold the edges of the wound together while it healed would be more than enough.

“Me and Steve what?” Darcy asked distractedly, glancing up only to meet intent blue eyes.

“You like him,” Barnes said bluntly.

Darcy blinked at him once, then again as her brain parsed that statement, and finally burst into incredulous giggles, punctuated by the odd snort.

“Yeah, okay, what?” First aid kit forgotten, she pounced on the new piece of information like a kitten. “Have you and Sam been gossiping again? I thought you two quit that after Nat threatened to remove your testicles.” She tilted her head to the side and then rolled her eyes with a huff. “I like Steve. He’s a great guy. But I don’t want him to be my guy, if that’s what you were thinking.” She picked up a bottle of medical adhesive and advanced on him. “Now hold still and stop talking about me and my love life behind my back or I’ll use this on your mouth as well.”

As she bent her head to focus on the injury, Bucky shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot before clearing his throat.

“Got better things for you to do with my mouth, doll.” His words were barely audible, but they hit her right in pit of her stomach. A warm curl of need unfurled there and she felt her cheeks flushing hard. She tried not to look up at him, gently reaching out to touch the adhesive applicator to his skin when his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist.

She meeped, and had to look up at him. His eyes were glittering below a heavy curtain of dark lashes.

“If he’s not floating around in that pretty head of yours, then you don’t mind if I—” He was on her in a moment, and the adhesive bottle hit the floor with a plastic clatter. He was kissing her, the normally cruel narrator in the back of her head that pointed out all her flaws during her daily activities was stunned into half silence, he was kissing her which meant he liked her and… and…

He pulled her arm around his waist, forcing her against his chest in a way she was not mad at at all, the heat of his body radiating even through the thickness of the towel protecting his junk from—

 _Do not even think about his dick right now, Darcy Lewis_ , she scolded herself. But she was. She was thinking about every inch of him as his mouth explored hers and when he finally, regretfully, pulled away she was breathing hard and imagining him breathing hard under her spent and exhausted.

“Uh,” she exhaled and stared up at him. There was a crooked smile on his lips and it made a thrill race down her spine to know she’d been the one to put it there. “Guess you weren’t gossiping then, huh?”

His smile spread impossibly wider and he reached down to cup the side of her face, thumb smoothing across her cheekbone.

“Nah, just making sure the playing field was clear. I owe Steve a lot. Not about to step on his toes and steal his girl out from under him.”

That mental image made her blush, because right then the only guy she really wanted to be under was him. She quickly steered her reckless brain away from that train of thought, and skirted back a few inches to put more space between them.

Darcy congratulated herself on managing to keep the temptation of Barnes out of arm's reach, but then she realized she hadn't gone far enough.

In fact, 'just out of reach' seemed to be better for him, much like the towel around his waist had done things for her.

His eyes flicked over her, from her sensible heels to the bottom of the V in the neckline of her top, and finally, finding her gaze.

Darcy swallowed, frozen like a hunted animal.

"Paperwork," she realized suddenly.

There was that raised eyebrow again.

"I didn't come down here to—uh, I mean, not that I don't—" Darcy stopped herself before she began to babble and closed her eyes to collect her thoughts.

"Everybody else already finished their mission reports. Yours is..." She reached down to pick up the plastic sleeve by her foot and held it out to him. "Just look it over, sign it if it looks okay, and, uh..."

"Sign it?" he repeated, taking the report in one hand and holding out the other to emphasize its emptiness.

Darcy managed (with difficulty) to avoid becoming lost in daydreams about his torso, and spun, looking around her for the pen she'd brought.

"I... had one," she claimed, craning her neck to look under the bench running down the middle of the aisle between rows of lockers.

Barnes seemed amused when she crouched to search underneath.

"It's your fault;" she informed him. "I hadn't planned on coming face to face with super soldier ass when Steve told me where you were, or I would have—"

"You didn't?" he interrupted, looking entirely unconvinced and entirely amused. "But if Steve told you I was here, he must’ve told you I was in the shower." Barnes put the report on the bench and moved a little closer.

"Well, yeah, otherwise I wouldn't have taken precautions so you wouldn't get the thing wet."

Barnes smiled, a triumphant grin. "You knew exactly what you were getting into coming in here, doll," he accused.

Had she? Had she hoped subconsciously for that magnificent view?

Darcy found she was already answering: "This is a locker room. There's lots of paperwork-unfriendly things in here. And today, you're one of them."

"Mmhm," he replied, closing the distance between them and putting his hands on her hips.

"I didn't want all my hard work to be ruined," she continued, undeterred despite his nearness.

His gaze was locked on her mouth. "We wouldn't want that," he agreed. "Why don't you go find another pen, and I'll just put on some underwear and be right up?"

"About that..." Darcy grabbed the front of the towel around his waist and pulled Barnes up against her. "Maybe I spoke too soon."

That damn eyebrow quirked up again and Darcy fought against the tiny swoon she felt every time she saw it. His gaze flickered to her hand on his towel and then back up to her face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes. _No_ ," she said, shaking her head in a fruitless effort to clear it.

She wanted nothing more than to rip the towel off and push him against the tile and see just how true all those rumors from the 40s about his sexual prowess were. But, no.

She had a job to do and she would not bewitched by those blue eyes and rippling muscles and panty-melting grins until she’d done it. So, she channelled Phil Coulson and pasted a professional smile on her face as she tried to form a coherent sentence.

"That's a bad idea… _paperwork_ ," she said with a firm nod as she took a half a step back and met his eyes.

He grinned and captured her hand against his chest. Somehow, it had moved up from the towel and was currently tracing the dips and contours of his abs.

 _Bad hand_.

"That's up to you, sweetheart, but I'm gonna need you to stop doing that."

“That was an accident,” Darcy mumbled.

“An accident? Didn’t seem like much of an accident to me,” Barnes said, the wicked grin on his face growing wider.

Without removing his eyes from hers, he lifted her terribly behaved hand and kissed her palm. His tongue flicked out to taste her and she thought she might die. Not the worst way to go, really. Slightly begrudgingly, she yanked her hand back, instantly missing the feeling of his warm flesh.

With a sigh, she stepped around him to grab the report he’d placed on the bench. “Ok, I am going to let you get dressed, and then you can come up and sign this.”

“To your apartment?”

Her original thought was to say her office, it being more professional and all. But then her thoughts turned to how small a space it was, too small. He would take up the whole room. Not to mention how good he would look in her swivel chair. And _desk sex?_ Nope.

She needed someplace where they would be on even footing. What better place than her turf? She would have home field advantage.

“Yes, my apartment. Whenever you get dressed. Clothes and underwear and all that,” she gestured vaguely as she gave him a final glance from the doorway and hurried from the room.

When she got upstairs, she set out his paperwork on her coffee table. She moved through the apartment, rifling through drawers and bags, gathering all the pens she could find and placing them beside Barnes’ report. Nothing was less sexy than a giant pile of pens.

Once she had her pens ready and waiting, she paced. Darcy always paced when she was nervous and she felt this was an appropriate moment to be nervous. Not that she was nervous about him, just the situation.

 _Things are happening_ , she thought.

Less than an hour ago, she had been lamenting her massive, yet ill-advised crush on the guy. Then, she got an eyeful of naked super soldier. Then, they’d made out a little. Then, she’d gotten a little handsy.

And now, he was on his way up to her apartment. Where they would be alone. Together. At a time when all she could think about was that he had tasted a little of cinnamon and how she’d very much like to taste him again.

She heard the soft knock on her door and sighed.

She was so fucked.

At least, she hoped she would be.

It was time for her game face. If this was going to happen, then good. Fine. Great. She’d show Barnes the time of his life. After he signed his paperwork, of course.

With one deep breath to help quiet her nerves, one strategic breast adjustment, followed by one tug on her shirt which lowered her neckline and let a slip of lace bra show, and one swift hand through her hair, Darcy was ready for battle. She strode purposefully to the door and pulled it open.

“Hello there, s-s-Steve,” she stuttered, clumsily altering her words when the wrong pair of blue eyes greeted her. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t mean to sound so abrupt, but his appearance had derailed her thoughts and now she was awkwardly trying to shift from ‘hello there, soldier’ and a sexy slink against the door jam, to greeting Captain America and not giving him a VIP screening of her cleavage. She attempted to subtly roll her shoulders and tug her collar up, but knew it probably looked painfully unconvincing in the whole ‘nothing to see here, move along’ department.

“Uh—“

At least she wasn’t the only one with derailed thoughts.

“I—uh—I was wondering if you managed to find Bucky and get his report signed yet. I’ve got an early morning meeting with Hill, so I can turn them in for you if they’re finished,” Steve managed after only a moment. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I figured it was the least I could do to thank you for all you do for the team and give you a chance to sleep in.”

Darcy felt a bit uncharitable for wishing him away, but she really needed him to _not be here_ right now.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you, Cap, but they aren’t ready yet. Still need some… tweaking. I’ll take them in tomorrow. It’s no big deal, really. I don’t mind. Thanks, anyway!” She waved and tried to step back and shut the door, but he stopped her.

“Didn’t you find Bucky?”

“Nope. Well, yep. I found him all right, but he was sort of… indisposed? He’s gonna sign later. It’s fine,” she answered, a little too quickly, and watched Steve’s face crease with confusion and concern.

“Is he giving you a hard time? I can speak to him if—“

“No! No, no, no, no, no,” she cut him off, trying to cover for the other man _without_ giving away the fact that she was hoping Bucky _would_ be giving her something hard very shortly. “He should be by soon. You know, just to sign. With clothes on, and everything.”

Abort. Critical Mission Failure.

“Oh, well, I’ll just wait, then, if you don’t mind.”

And of course, she couldn’t think of any reason why she would without calling the man a cockblock, right to his face.

“Sure, come on in,” she sighed, resigned, as she stepped back and waved him in.

Luckily, she only had to make small talk with him for a couple of minutes before there was another knock at her door.

The correct pair of blue eyes were smoldering at her when she pulled it open this time.

“Hey, sweeth—“

Bucky’s words cut off when Darcy quickly and quietly slapped away the hands that were reaching for her.

“Hello, Barnes. Thanks for stopping by to sign that report. Captain Rogers is here waiting for it,” Darcy announced too loudly, mouthing silently for him to behave before turning and leading him into her apartment.

She trusted that the Winter Soldier would pick up on the situation pretty quickly and it seemed he had as he followed her in with his professional mask in place.  

“Hey, punk,” Bucky greeted Steve, only a bit frostily.

“Bucky,” Steve replied, the smallest hint of censure in his voice.

The three of them stood there, uncomfortably tense, for a few seconds, before Darcy broke it with, “Paperwork!”

She pointed to the waiting papers on her coffee table, and Bucky walked over, gave her a quizzical eyebrow raise at the pile of pens, selected one, and started signing and initialing all the places she’d left her helpful, colorful little post-it tabs.

“That should do it!” she declared, yanking the pages away the second he was done and shoving them at Steve.

And Steve Rogers, a man with the soul of troll in the body of an angel, smiled sweetly and said, “Great! Thanks, Miss Lewis. Let’s go, Buck.”

There was an awkward beat of silence before both Darcy and Bucky spoke at the same time.

“Actually, I needed to—”

“We were going to go over—”

They both stopped. Darcy resolutely kept her eyes on Steve, lips pressed together in a thin line as she tried not to panic under his all too innocent gaze. He looked between Bucky and her expectantly.

“There were some things that—”

“I was needing an opinion on—”

They both stopped again and Darcy noticed a slight twitch of the good Captain’s mouth. Fuck.

“Avengers’ business?” Steve asked sweetly, arms crossed over his chest. Oh, he was _enjoying_ this. Well, two could play at this game. Irritated, Darcy said the first thing she could think of.

“Actually, Steve, it’s an intervention,” she threw out quickly.

“I—what?” Steve looked highly confused as this was clearly not where he thought this conversation was heading. Oddly enough, this isn’t where Darcy thought this was heading either but she couldn’t take it back now.

“For you,” Bucky added and it took every lesson she’d ever learned from Natasha and her not inconsiderable willpower for Darcy to keep a straight face.

God, Bucky was going to be the death of her and she hadn’t even gotten him into her bed. Yet.

Steve got a weirdly hunted look about him, his latent Catholic guilt kicking in and Darcy watched with satisfaction as he squirmed under their gazes.

“If this is because of that one thing with Maria…”

Darcy felt her eyes get huge and she jerked her head to see Bucky looking at her with the same look of delighted shock.

“Whoa! Punk, what do you mean? What thing with Maria,” Bucky asked, a shit eating grin on his face as Steve’s turned tomato red.

“What? Nothing! I think I’ll, uh, let you guys get back to, uh, yeah,” he said backing towards the door to her apartment, waving the reports in his hand, “I have to go give these to Maria—Hill! I mean Commander Hill.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” Darcy said under her breath as the door closed behind the not-so-good Captain. Bucky snorted.

There was another beat of silence, one that was charged with the tension that had been building between the two of them since the locker room fiasco.

“Well,” Bucky drawled and Darcy was suddenly very, very aware that they were alone in her apartment. She turned her head from where she’d watched the Captain leave and felt her breath catch when she met Bucky’s decidedly heated gaze.

The shiver that went up her spine made her think of another ‘UN’ word she was going to have to deal with: Undeniable

He reached out and pulled her into his arms, smirking down at her. He bent down and practically _purred_ in her ear.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Yep.

Yep.

Everything she’d heard about him was one hundred percent accurate.  She knew by the fucking purr in his voice and how it seemed to have a direct line straight to her lady parts.

And how his thumb made circles over her hip bone and ninety percent of her brain power was focused on that little motion. Another shiver, a delicious shiver that had goosebumps racing down her arms, worked it’s way over her.

Bucky’s resulting smirk? It was just a little too smug. A little too knowing.

Fuck that. He hadn’t known anything like Darcy. And damn if he wasn’t going to know it by the end of this.

He crowded her against the wall, his big shoulders blocking her view of the rest of the apartment, his head tilted in. His lips were parted just slightly, leaving his full bottom lip just… there. And his eyes. His eyes were blown out with desire, and damn that smug and knowing look made him all confident and seductive as fuck.

The hand with the fingers, doing the thing, it trailed down and hooked into her waistband, gently tugging. Those hands, Darcy realized, were highly charismatic. They promised to be oh so good to her, and damn, did she want to follow that tug.

Her nipples were already hard, and as she shifted they brushed against the inside of her bra and holy hell, being at his mercy sounded like heaven.

The corner of his mouth flickered upwards.

Ha!

Darcy planted her hand on his chest - and boy, she had not been caught up in a brain fog due to his nakedness earlier, his chest really did feel that amazing - and pushed.

He dropped back a step, and some of that smugness was replaced by a hint of confusion. She pushed again, and he dropped back another step.

Her back left the wall, and she pushed him, stalking after him, until his back was against the opposite wall. By the time they reach it, his confusion had faded. She really liked the way he watched her, the way he almost seemed kind of drunk. His eyes snapped down to the fingers she was dragging down his chest and over the bumps of his abs.

She left her fingertips resting on his waistband, waiting until his eyes met hers again.

She held his gaze, tilting her head to one side. Then she dipped her finger into his waistband. She licked her bottom lip, and watched those darkened eyes dart to her mouth.

She couldn’t help but smile, because she’d just realized, this was going to be fun. Then she tugged.

Bucky stepped forward, into her. Shoulders curved over her, hips pressed against hers and her hand was trapped between their bodies. His forehead rested against hers. “Jesus, Sweetheart.”

Darcy realized how hard she was breathing. But that was nothing compared to the other realization that engulfed her, looking back at him.

Not unrequited. Not unappreciated. And just possibly, going off of the almost worshipful look in his eyes, not unadvisable.

So she raised her chin. “Gonna leave a girl hanging, Bucky?”

Yeah. He definitely liked her using his first name. She’d been careful not to, because she was kind of worried it would give everything away. It had always been Barnes, Sarge, or, one regrettable morning, buttface.

It did. Give everything away. She could tell that it did: his eyes warmed. He traced his fingers up her arms, skimmed over her shoulders, and then cupped the sides of her face.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her hair was definitely standing on end.

He lowered his head, and it was too damn much. This moment. She had never been good at these moments. Her entire life, she’d ruined them. She darted forward, up on her tiptoes, and nipped his bottom lip.

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh, and looked away for a second, turning back smiling and shaking his head. Then he picked her up, his movement so fast she could hardly track it.

Now looking down at him, she couldn’t help but kiss that crooked smile. The smiles lasted less than a second, and then her hands were fisted in his shirt.

The way he groaned, it had her hips rolling against him before she could stop herself. But one of his hands came up to grip her hip, encouraging the movement.

“You like that?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“Mmmhmm,” was his reply, as he buried his face in her neck, his lips lightly touching her skin.

“Great. So where would you like to take this? I’m only asking because all the teasing we’ve been doing all evening is driving me a little crazy, and I’d kinda like to get this show on the road, if you know what I mean. Wherever it is we happen to be going.” At that point Darcy was ready to spontaneously combust, and it was either go big or go home as far as she was concerned. Either he was going to have to help her with what he started, or he was going to have to leave so she could do it herself.

Bucky looked up at her with a grin, obviously loving her directness. “Saucy.”

Darcy raised a brow. “Nah, us ladies these days, we’re just too busy for all that coy and demure shit. Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

He laughed then, his shoulders relaxed, his smile unforced and without all the affected charm at the edges. Their banter over the past few hours had seemed to make him comfortable around her in ways he never was before. “Bedroom?” he suggested, touching his forehead to hers.

She gave him a bright smile, overjoyed and relieved that they were definitely on the same page. “Nice. Straight and to the point, very direct, shows confidence. I appreciate that in a man. Down the hall, second door on the left.”

He immediately followed her instructions and she all of a sudden found him lowering her gently onto her bed, and then there he was, crawling over her, on top of her. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered, before putting his lips on hers and kissing her breathless.

When they finally came up for air, she looked at him and grinned. “Same. But why didn’t you?”

He put his weight on his left elbow and settled at her side. “I thought you and Steve might …”

Darcy laughed. “Steve’s cool an’ all, but he’s not my type.”

A slow and strangely shy smile crept upon Bucky’s face as he inched her shirt up and drew a light circle around her belly button with his fingertips. “So what’s your type?”

She tapped her index finger to her lips. “Hmm. I like dudes with longish brown hair, sexy scruff, killer blue-grey eyes, and a jawline for days,” she mused, then swept her thumb along the dimple in his chin. She could have sworn she noticed him blush a little. “Lucky for me, I think I found one. How ‘bout you? What’s your type?”

He gave her a sultry grin that gave her butterflies, like she was on a damn rollercoaster. “I like a dame who makes me laugh… and also happens to have these beautiful red lips that look like they’re dyin’ to be kissed,” he said, before leaning down and giving her a light peck, he then moved lower, giving her a nip at the neck “…and this gorgeous soft skin.”

He ran his right hand along her side. “A dame with wicked curves…” he then let his fingers trail down until he gave her hip, or more like the top of her ass, a teasing squeeze. “Something to grab onto,” he purred.

Darcy laughed softly, letting it all sink in. They actually really liked each other. A _lot_ . And it felt amazing. She knew that this had the potential to turn into something special, something substantial, and this didn’t have to be just a hook-up or a quick fuck… it could be something _real_.

“Hey,” she said softly, and drawing him away from where he was currently giving the skin of her belly soft kisses, which in all honestly, was driving her all kinds of crazy. She momentarily mourned the loss of his lips on her, but she wanted to handle their potential fledgling relationship with care. “So we’re both obviously a sure thing here, yeah?”

He looked up, his hair falling adorably in his face. He nodded his head with a smirk.

“Then how bout we have a sort-of date first? I don’t know, we could make dinner together? Watch a movie? Whatever, I don’t care, I just want to spend some alone-time with you. And then we can meet back here in my room afterward?”

His eyes, or more like his whole face, lit up at her suggestion, and it nearly took her breath away to realize how handsome he was, how gorgeous he looked when he smiled, which sadly wasn’t very often. The fact that she was able to make him do it melted her heart a little.

“I’d really like that, doll,” he said.

“Awesome. What do you want to do? Well, besides take all our clothes off and have mad passionate crazy and depraved sex, but we’ll do that later tonight. It’ll be dessert. What do you want for an appetizer?”

“Well, since I’m assuming you’re off the menu…” his voice trailed off, that pesky brow quirking up and distracting her when he was only looking for confirmation.

Darcy couldn’t resist reaching up to drag her hand through the scruff along his jaw, smiling when he turned his face into the touch.

“Oh, believe me. I’m not an appetizer to tide you over, more the whole shebang.”

He hummed in agreement, leaning in with a small smile and capturing her lips without any hurry. It wasn’t long before she melted into the kiss, content to enjoy the slow pace of getting to know him, his taste, and wrap her head around the fact that she was kissing him. She wasn’t sure if the angsting was making this sweeter than it otherwise would have been, but decided not to worry and instead focused on the feel of his skin under her hand. That bad, bad hand that was currently tamed from straying. Well, not too far at least. For the moment.

After a couple seconds, a minute, an hour, whatever length of time it was that made it feel like a wonderful forever, he pulled back, and it was her turn to hum.

“Dinner?”

Her brows drew together and he laughed, a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest, and he momentarily lowered his head and looking up at her through his lashes. She forced herself past a mild swoon and focused on his words.

“Oh, right. Food.”

Bucky reached out a hand, gently toying with her hair as his lips twitched into a teasing smile.

“You _were_ the one that suggested it.”

“I know, but you were the one that distracted me. I just gotta get my head back to where we were before.”

He softly tugged on the strand of hair in his hand.

“Before when we were talking about dinner, or before before?”

That damned eyebrow ticked up again and she pushed him away with a giggle.

“Nope. Food. We decided and there’s no going back.”

With a calm sigh, he rolled over onto his back, stretching as he tucked his hands behind his head. Her eyes traced along his biceps and the flex and pull of his muscles. The man knew how to put on a show. Focus, Darcy. Focus.

“Okay.” She hesitated, wracking her brain to remember what food she had in the apartment, let alone something that would provide enough for both of them to eat. “While I know it’s not the most romantic, I have everything to make my mom’s tuna melt recipe and I’ve been craving it for a couple days.”

Her sentence ended on a higher note, posing more of a question than a suggestion.

The first-date jitters were kicking in. And with gusto. Despite the fact that they had already made it a hell of a lot farther than most of her first dates and probably would continue to do so, she was a worrier. This was Bucky. This was important to her. And with her rollercoaster of an evening, this seemed the perfect time to worry.

But his smile was quick, and she found herself letting out a breath of relief.

“As long as you got an extra toothbrush around here, we’re good.”

Darcy sat up, trying to go slowly, running one hand softly over Bucky’s leg as she left the bed. She put a little extra sway into her hips as she walked, hoping that it would cover the nerves. _Don’t rush_ , she told herself, despite the somewhat jarring transition of going from opening up Bucky’s shirt to opening a can of tuna. She didn’t hear Bucky following her, but kept seeing him out of the corner of her eye as she moved through the kitchen.

He hovered in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, and gazing at her with hot, sultry eyes. Every time she turned around he managed to be running his hand through his hair or stretching his arm up. It was most certainly not by chance, Barnes knew exactly what he was doing. Darcy bit her lower lip, determined to stay on task. Good things come to those who wait.

The only downside to her mother’s tuna melt was that it required a casserole dish, which Darcy had but it lived in the highest cupboard, on the highest shelf. In the opposite corner of the kitchen there was a red plastic step that she used on a fairly regular basis to reach things; but was it too supremely unsexy for her to need a kiddie-step? Darcy opened the cupboard and stared up at the dish, sitting smugly out of reach. Even if she stretched her furthest and hopped a little, she knew she wouldn't be able to get at it. Just as she was preparing to swallow her pride and go for the step she heard the soft rustle of fabric and felt the heat of Bucky’s body coming to stand approximately zero inches from her. He put his hand on the small of her back and reached up, brushing his chest against her shoulder and effortlessly grabbing the dish. When he brought it back down and held it out to her, he quite pointedly did not take a step back. He just stood there, his front pressing softly against her side, and letting his his breath tickle her cheek.

Darcy thought of another ‘un’: unresolved.

She took a deep breath and spun away from Bucky, back to the countertop where she had to now assemble their food. She felt strong arms—one noticeably cooler than the other—wrap themselves around her waist, caressing up and down from her ribs to her hips. Bucky gently leaned in, smelling Darcy’s hair and mouthing at the muscles in her neck and across her shoulder. It tingled down her spine and she tipped her head back with a sigh. One hand reached back to card through Bucky’s hair, her nails dragging along his scalp and eliciting a deep groan.

“You’ve been mixing that an awful long time, doll,” Bucky said, somewhat hoarsely.

Darcy let a small gasp escape her lips but said nothing in reply, just started filling the casserole dish with jittery hands. Bucky, still pressing tantalising kisses down her neck, slid his hands around the front of Darcy’s hips and gently pulled her back, where her backside met the tops of his thighs.

Darcy picked up the dish, elbowing Bucky to take step back, which he did. Just one. Enough so that Darcy could get the dish in the oven but still standing right behind her and—with Darcy bent over to the oven door—leaving the pair of them in suggestive position. She could _feel_ him smirking, without even having to look.

She straightened as she closed the door, hastily setting the timer, and turned to face Bucky. When she spoke it was in a breathy voice: “It’ll be about a half hour…”

“What do you say we put that half an hour to good use?”

The bright grey-blue of his eyes had gone dark and hazy, and Darcy felt a hot flush spreading out over her skin at the sight.  

“Are you suggesting we put a pin in our ‘date first’ idea and come back to it in a little bit?” she asked. “Because...okay, I know it was my idea but… um…”

His gaze tracked down to her lips, and then back up. “Is there something coming after that ‘but?’”

“Blue,” Darcy said firmly.

“Blue?” Bucky frowned slightly. “What?”

“It’s my favorite color. My favorite dessert is Boston cream pie, we had a family dog named Franklin, I’m not freaked out by spiders, and the only god I believe in is Thor…mostly because I’ve actually met him. How’s that?”

He leaned back, still looking puzzled. “You’ve lost me, doll.”

“Small talk,” she explained.  “We should get that part of the date out of the way. I’d suggest you get on it, Barnes, because we’re down to twenty-eight minutes here.”

It took Bucky exactly no seconds to catch up once he realized what she was doing. He nodded, approving smirk teasing across his face. “Okay, I’ll play. As far as I can remember, my favorite color has always been yellow. Don’t quote me on that, though. Most stuff before ‘43 is a little rough around the edges in my head. I don’t have a favorite dessert; anything sweet is good, although for some reason the taste of root beer makes me queasy…”

“Noted,” she said, and he continued.

“...I never liked spiders, but I don’t like killing them either. Usually, I just put them in a cup and take them outside. And I’m Catholic because it’s all I’ve ever been. Not sure how much of it I believe anymore, though. Don’t really think about it much. So, we good?”

“Are you kidding me? We’re golden. And we’ve got twenty-seven minutes left. How much can you do in twenty-seven minutes?”

“Plenty. Table or counter?”

Darcy blinked, then swallowed, before saying, “Yeah, um… either? Either is good.”

His head bent over hers, breath hot on her lips, and said, “Counter it is.”

Moments later Darcy was mostly undressed and seated on the counter with Bucky standing between her legs. She wasn’t even sure how he did it. The whole thing was kind of a blur really, of searing kisses, and stunningly efficient clothing removal. She was still trying to figure out how he managed to get her shirt off without taking his mouth off of hers even once, when she felt the flick of cool, metal fingers along her back, and the clasp of her bra popped open without so much as a single protest.  

“Kinda smooth with the ladies, aren’t you, Barnes?” she said, nipping at his bottom lip.

Bucky huffed in amusement. “I guess some things you never forget.”

“So you’re saying it’s like riding a bike?” Darcy quirked an eyebrow at him, and he pulled back slightly to look her up and down, shaking his head the whole time.

“A bicycle,” he scoffed. “Jesus, doll, look at you. Comparing you to a bicycle should be illegal.”

“Twenty-four minutes,” she reminded him.

He shook his head once more, muttering what she thought was, “I’ll give you a goddamn bicycle…”  

Then his lips were back on hers, hands sliding up her ribcage to cup her breasts. One, warm and calloused, the other bright, cool metal, fingers mapping out her curves and leaving her arching into his touch. There was slight hum followed by a soft series of clicks, and Darcy realized it was the plates adjusting each time he moved. She skimmed her fingertips up the planes of his cybernetic arm, and felt them shifting into place, one by one.

Bucky paused, lips grazing hers. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“For...?” Her eyes met his, and she felt a pang at the helpless vulnerability she saw there.

“The arm. Is it too distracting?”

This was going to require delicate handling. Darcy realized that immediately. He thought the arm was a turn-off or something, and that was never going to fly. Not on her watch.  

“Bucky, the only thing distracting me right now is you. You kinda distract me a lot lately.”

“Do I?” The roguish expression returned to his face, along with a palpable rise in confidence.

“Constantly. Why do you think I’m always dropping my files and tripping over stuff around you? You make me a little bit stupid with all the hot you have going on.”

“Sounds like I owe you,” he said. “What with being such a distraction and all.”   

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah. You totally do. Better get on that.”  

“Whatever you say, doll.”  

Bucky dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, and Darcy felt her heart starting to hammer. He looked like the best kind of trouble, or like he was about to _make_ the best kind of trouble. Either way, she was 100% down with it.  

“Shirt,” Darcy announced firmly, not wanting to be a slouch in the undressing of a playmate.

His brow furrowed just a touch as his eyes slipped to the small pile of Darcy’s discarded outfit.

“Yours,” she clarified as she managed to wedge her hands into the small space between them and make a play for his bottom shirt button.  Her fingers tremored just slightly as his own hands came up to work at his buttons from the top.

A few moments passed before she realized she was stuck, her fingers just stroking that bottom button as she had quickly grown mesmerized by the work of Bucky’s hands. Cybernetic fingers moved in symphony with flesh and bone over the buttons, deftly precise as he made light work of them.

How insane to think those hands would be on her, how frustrating to think that she’d skirted around this for so long… Bucky gently bumped her fingers out of the way and undid his final button. She had been exactly zero help on the shirt button front, but she wasted no time in parting the front of his shirt and leaning in to press her lips against the taut, warm skin of his sternum. She took in the smell of warm man, something too good to be generic shower gel and—behind it all—the beginnings of a damn fine tuna melt (like she needed any more reason to love her mom’s dish).

Bucky filled his hands with her breasts, testing and teasing with small flexes of his palms. He stepped in closer as her legs drew up, thighs pressing into his hips as her hands finally got with the program and worked at his belt and fly, opening them and slipping inside to seek out the stiff ridge of his cock. She nearly groaned with relief to find him so hard, a girl could only handle so much torment in one evening. “Condom?” she asked as she used one finger to tug his underwear down.

He shuffled back, trousers gaping around his hips as he reached into his back pocket, pulled out the required packet and wasted little time in extracting the condom and smoothly rolling it on to his dick. She used the small break to lift her hips and slip her underwear free.

Counter sex. She was about to have counter sex. With Bucky.

It was time to amend the UN list: _Un-fucking-real_. Yet still absolutely happening. He moved back between her welcoming thighs, pressed in tighter this time. His cock glanced off the soft skin high inside her thigh once, then twice. He hesitated, “Are you sure this is okay for a first date?”

 _Unbelieveable._ With an inelegant snort Darcy took matters into her own hands, rocking her hips in invite as she gripped him none too gently and slipped her hips to the very edge of the counter, hoping like Hell that he wasn’t about to let her fall on her bare ass.

Delusions of chivalry forgotten, Bucky nudged his hips forward and found Darcy wet and very eager. Breath hissed out from between his teeth as he pressed forward and finally, _finally,_ sank into her. From there all of the UNs fell away and only two people pressing and moving and grasping and _needing_ remained. Darcy’s mouth roved over Bucky’s, her lips clumsily moving everywhere as she failed to choose between soft words and frantic kisses. His hands found her hips, likely leaving bruises as he fought to keep her in place and close, so fucking close.

Tempo rose, dropped, picked up again and then was completely forgotten over long moments. Hips smacked thighs as her breasts bounced and dark hair grew damp and stuck to heated skin. Darcy’s lips slipped over his, little stuttered breaths releasing into his mouth as she gripped at two very different biceps and came, just seconds before he responded in kind with a harsh groan.

It took time for them to gather themselves. A lot of it. Eventually Bucky pressed his forehead to hers, hands slowly stroking up and down her thighs. “That,” he said softly, “was so good that my ears are ringing.”

“That,” Darcy whispered, only able to muster a lopsided grin, “might actually be the oven timer...”

He smirked at her, but she thought she caught a shadow passing over his face as he pulled away from her, dealing with the condom and righting his clothes.

“Hell of a way to spend an evening, Lewis,” he said, running a hand through his hair as Darcy slid off the counter onto shaky legs, bending down to pick up her scattered clothing.

A few more UNs crawled back into the room.

Uncertain.

Uncomfortable.

Unclear.

“Well,” said Darcy with more bravado than she felt, “Wait until you try the tuna melt.”

“You don’t need to do that,” said Bucky with a lopsided grin and, yes, Darcy was sure she saw a hint of sadness in it now; something that was less the cocksure Bucky, and a little bit more the often sad and quiet James.

“Do what?” Darcy asked, genuinely confused.

“The dinner thing, the date thing. I think we both know what this is.”

Darcy had been watching Bucky for a long time now. If she hadn’t been able to read the expressions on his face, if she couldn’t see the stiffness in his shoulders, and the way the words came out like he was fighting to keep them in, she would have been devastated.

She still felt the words like a punch in the stomach. But she knew that she hadn’t been making it up, the way he looked at her when he was inside her, that feeling that this thing between them could be something important.

She really had been watching him for a while now, but she was beginning to realise that she had been more distracted by the facade he wore in public than she had known. She had missed a few UNs somewhere in there. The ones that belonged to him.

Unsure.

Unbalanced.

Unloved.

She could, at least, try to fix one of those.

“What do you think this is?” she asked him, her raised eyebrow daring him to put it into words.

“I…” he looked at her curiously, with something a little like hope. “I’ve seen you lookin’,” he said, a hint of his former swagger coming through, “I distract you, I know it. But so does Steve. Even Barton sometimes,” he rolled his eyes as if he despaired of her taste.

“That’s not the same thing at all,” she said defensively, well aware that she looked her fair share at the spandex crowd. There was a lot to appreciate. But it wasn’t the same as the way she looked at Bucky. The way she _watched_ him.

“Saw the way you were lookin’ at me in the shower,” he said, “like you wanted to eat me for breakfast.”

She shivered, remembering the stab of heat that had coursed through her when she had walked in on him in the shower.

“If that’s what you want from me doll,” he tried to affect a casual tone, “I’m not too proud to take it.”

She blinked at him.

“And what exactly did you think the whole ‘let’s have dinner and what’s your favorite color’ thing was about?” she asked incredulously.

He shrugged, “I remember plenty of dames who wanted dinner first, but never after,” he said calmly.

Unfathomable. There was also that.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, James Buchanan Barnes,” said Darcy, feeling a little bit ridiculous, still half dressed and rounding on him, one finger jabbing at his bare chest between the open tails of his shirt.

“Yes, maybe we sort of dove into this, and maybe it was because _hello_ , have you _seen_ yourself naked? But I don’t make a habit of jumping into bed with a guy just because he turns my crank. I fully intend to have dinner with you tonight and a bunch of other nights, if you can stand my cooking. Alright?”

She was a bit breathless when she finished, and her voice was a little shakier than she would have liked, because what if she _had_ read this wrong? What if she was about to be pushed back into unrequited, unappreciated, and, worse, unfulfilled, now that she knew what she would be missing?

But she needn’t have worried. A grin split Bucky’s face like sunlight. “Alright,” he said, and didn’t let her respond before his hand was at her hip, and she collided against his strong chest as he dropped his head and kissed her, slow and easy.

“You know,” said Darcy a bit breathlessly as she pulled away, “the tuna melt should really be set on the counter to cool before we eat it.”

“Is that right?” asked Bucky, with a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin.

“I was thinking we could…”

Bucky cut her off with a finger over her lips, “Darce,” he said with a wicked grin, “I’m going to need you to take your underwear off before you say anything else.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more Darcy/Bucky goodness, check out [MCU Wintershock](http://mcuwintershock.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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